


or the devouring mouth

by radiantflesh



Series: dark!steve verse [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Caning, Dark Steve, Evil Steve Rogers, Feminization, Gaslighting, M/M, Manipulation, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 09:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5923639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiantflesh/pseuds/radiantflesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>crime and punishment</p>
            </blockquote>





	or the devouring mouth

**Author's Note:**

> for sdad

It rains for three days straight before Bucky wakes to sunshine; streaming in from the high, narrow window in his room. There are large, floor to ceiling windows in the living room but the thick, blackout blinds that slide down stay shut when Steve isn’t here, and he hasn’t been home in a week.

Time seems to slip past in fits and starts when Bucky is alone.  He sleeps most of the time. The medicine Steve lays out for him in his weekly pillbox makes him feel drowsy and slow, but it keeps him from doing anything he’ll regret. That’s what Steve says. Bucky can hear his voice in his head even when he’s not around.

Sometimes he swears the walls have eyes. Food appears in the fridge while he sleeps and is whisked away an intermittent time later when he isn’t looking. But it’s a different world now, that much Bucky can tell, through the snatches of television he watches at night when Steve’s here, from the conversations he overhears when Steve’s too busy to bother pushing him away.

Steve has missions. Steve’s gone for days and then Steve returns, his black suit scruffed and worse for wear, it's only obtrusive design a round patch in the middle of his chest; a skull bearing multiple legs. It snags and catches in Bucky’s memory like a burr in lamb’s wool, and makes him cower inside with nameless dread.

Today, he stands at the door leading to the roof staircase for a long while after waking. Steve takes him up every now and then, when Bucky’s been especially good and done everything just right, and sometimes when he’s up there with the heavy, golden press of direct sunlight on him Bucky will turn to see Steve smiling and watching and it feels just right, feels like he knows that look better than his own skin.

Bucky places his flesh hand on the cool, metal knob. Steve had given him his left arm back after a while, though it was different and it couldn’t do the things his old arm could do. Its mechanics hum softly as he stands, like it knows what he’s thinking, and he’s distracted from the frozen, far away place his mind’s gone for all of a second.

He could just slip up there now, and no one would know. How could they?

Heavy silence presses around him as he considers. He squeezes the knob tight and twists it in his hand. The door snicks open on a sigh, like an exhale.

Drab, concrete steps with a simple iron railing lead up, up, up. Bucky stands for a while gazing through the gap in the door.

Then he shuts it.

*

Bucky gets a brief warning of Steve’s imminent arrival. He’s dozing on the sofa when he hears the deep, humming sound of the elevator drawing up to their floor, inner apartment electronics snapping on in succession as Steve activates the exterior keypad.

Bucky walks briskly to the front door and kneels. Arms behind his back, metal fingers of his left arm interlocked around the wrist of the right. He keeps his eyes trained to the foyer tiling below.

The rolling shades in the living room are at half mast already, rolling up to the ceiling as the door swings open and shut. Steve’s black combat boots appear in view. The tops are caked with a thin layer of dust, grit caught in the bottoms.

“There you are, buddy,” Steve says. Bucky shivers at the sound of his voice, a nameless anxiety tightening the muscles of his belly. The snap and zip of Steve’s upper jacket sounds immediately in the quiet room as he takes it off. He groans slightly and tosses it to the side.

“Come here,” Steve says. Bucky immediately drops to all fours and crawls slowly to Steve, careful with every movement. He sits back on his heels before Steve, in the space before the open vee of Steve’s legs.

“Missed me, baby?” Steve murmurs. His hand settles in Bucky’s hair. He slides his fingers in through nice and soft. Then tightens and tugs in a mean little yank, and turns Bucky’s head back so he’s looking up at Steve. Bucky’s stomach gives a small flip. He keeps his eyes down like Steve’s told him and Steve must be satisfied because he gives a brief hum and lets him lower his head down again.

“Speak,” Steve says, so Bucky knows he can answer. He rubs his fingers at Bucky’s scalp.

“Yes, sir,” Bucky answers immediately.

“Mm hm. You been good?”

Bucky can hear the smile in Steve’s voice, and a tiny knot inside him unwinds a little. Steve is in a good mood. Which means if Bucky doesn’t mess it up they’ll have one of their good days, when Bucky doesn’t ruin it for the both of them.

He gives a slight nod of his head.

“Wanna show me how much you missed me?”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky says, his heart jumping in his chest. Bucky gets a lot of things wrong still, but when he concentrates he knows he can make it good for Steve. And even though the parts of Bucky that still upset Steve can’t be helped, Bucky knows there are still plenty things he can do to leave Steve smiling.

“Get down,” Steve says, pushing at the back of Bucky’s head. He points to his feet. “Start showing me how thankful you are. You forget my name?”

“Yes sir,” Bucky says rapidly, dropping to all fours, “No, Stevie.”

Steve laughs. A hot flush of heat crawls up Bucky’s throat.

“Well which one is it?”

“Yes, Steve,” Bucky says, confused and embarrassed. He’d tried to - _there were two questions_ , a part of him wants to say, but he squashes that voice down tight. If he’d been paying attention he would’ve gotten it right.

“Go ahead,” Steve says, and Bucky presses his lips to the side of Steve’s boot, slow and careful and angled so Steve can see it.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you.”

“Again.”

Bucky kisses the boot higher up, where he can feel the heat of Steve through the thick fabric. When he pulls away there’s a small, blank imprint on the fabric.

“Before me,” Steve says, pointing again, and Bucky sits back in his earlier position.

“Clean yourself.”

Bucky licks his lips, eyes trained up to Steve, who’s watching with a keen expression. He tastes grit and dust.

“You got something you wanna say?”

Bucky nods his head.

“Yes sir. I wanna show you how much I missed you.”

“You did, huh?” Steve’s hand comes up to grip at Bucky’s jaw. He presses his thumb to Bucky’s lips. “This whore mouth feel empty without me?”

Bucky’s stomach tightens anxiously. He did - he’d been so good.

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright then, show me. Go ahead, don’t waste my time,” Steve says. He widens his stance. Bucky sits up on his knees, his hands scrabbling Steve’s waistline. He’s gotten good at tackling Steve’s uniform pants, even when he still had to do it one handed.

Bucky takes Steve out and nearly moans as soon as he gets his mouth on him, tasting salt and sweat as he kisses up the underside. Steve settles a hand to the back of Bucky’s head. Bucky looks up briefly as he kisses and rubs his lips at Steve’s length to find Steve watching. The taste of Steve is familiar and soothing on Bucky’s tongue. He holds Steve at his base and sucks at the head, then down the length as it swells, still soft enough that he takes him easily to the hilt.

“Oh that’s good,” Steve sighs. “Lower, now.”

Bucky ducks down, pulling at the opening in Steve’s pants so he can lick at the base of his dick. He lets Steve’s stiffening length go so he can palm his heavy balls, mouthing carefully until he can suck one gently in. Steve gives a stiff grunt.

“That’s it,” he grunts out, and Bucky gives a quiet, humming sound in return, so happy to hear he’s pleasing Steve.

“That’s enough,” Steve says, tugging at Bucky so he releases him and dives back enthusiastically to sucking Steve off. Steve’s harder now, wet at the tip. Bucky mouths at the precome dripping from Steve’s slit and sucks the head into his mouth.

“Oh, that’s good,” Steve says breathily. He begins rocking his hips so Bucky strokes him at the base and lets him slide in and out of his mouth. He still gags slightly when Steve starts hitting the back of his throat, but it’s a good thing, it’s noisy and sloppy and Steve loves it, his breathing starting to go loud and choppy. Bucky squirms despite himself, feeling his groin growing hot and heavy at how he’s pleasing Steve.

“That’s it. Let me hear that slutty mouth,” Steve says. He holds Bucky down so he can use his mouth in earnest, thrusting in so Bucky chokes, the rough wet sound of him fucking Bucky’s throat only seems to excite Steve further.

“Hold on, now,” Steve says, and his grip on the back of Bucky’s neck goes implacable. Bucky steadies his hands on Steve’s hard thighs and opens as wide as he can. His eyes go wet. Harsh, hot breaths escape from his nose as Steve pushes deep inside, Bucky’s lips stretching around his thick length. Steve grinds against him, grunting in pleasure as Bucky’s throat spasms around him. The moment seems to last far longer than it must be in real time, alarm welling up inside Bucky as he clutches at Steve and tries to breathe. Then Steve pulls out almost torturously slow.

A thick strand of saliva stretches between Steve’s wet dick and Bucky’s bruised lips before breaking. Bucky heaves his first breath in and coughs, fingers digging into Steve’s muscle as he shakes.

“There you go, baby,” Steve says. He pets at Bucky’s hair soothingly. “You liked that?”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky says.

His throat feels bruised.

“What do you want now? Where should I come?” Steve asks.

He gives himself a slow, considering stroke. Panic shoots through Bucky. It’s never a good sign when Steve has to come somewhere else, when Bucky doesn’t do well enough to deserve it.

“Please let me have it, sir,” Bucky says, turning his eyes up pleadingly.

“You want me to come in this whore mouth?” Steve asks, crooking an eyebrow. He takes himself at the base and pulls Bucky’s head back by his hair with the other hand. He rubs the tip of his cock messily against Bucky’s lips.

“Yes, sir,” Bucky whispers. “Please.”

“Go on then,” Steve says, “Don’t make me wait all day.”

Bucky dives back in gratefully, determined to do his best by Steve. He must be tired, and Bucky’s made him wait here, not a foot away from the door. The night may be long ahead of them, and each part has to live up to its full potential.

Bucky hums as he takes Steve into his mouth so Steve knows how much he loves it. He strokes and squeezes at Steve’s swollen flesh, bobbing his head to suck as far as he can comfortably, heedless of the wet down his chin and throat, the way his lips feel swollen and bruised. He knows Steve’s close when his fingers press tighter against Bucky’s scalp. Steve grunts, and his cock jerks in Bucky’s hand, hot come spurting inside his mouth. Bucky moans thankfully and swallows and swallows, squeezing at Steve’s flesh to feed himself the rest.

“That’s a good boy, swallow it baby, don’t waste any,” Steve says. He’s breathing hard, his face red, and Bucky doesn’t stop until Steve pushes at him, mouthing gently at Steve’s softening length and licking away every drop.

“Show me,” Steve says.

Bucky opens his mouth, sticking out his tongue slightly.

“Good boy,” Steve says, and it’s like the word trips a wire of pleasure in Bucky’s body that shoots in a shiver down his spine. His own dick is hard and aching in his pants like it's got a mind of its own, distinct from Bucky, directly wired to Steve’s praise.

Steve tucks himself back in then raises his arms above his head, groaning as he stretches. Bucky sits back on his heels, hands behind his back and watches Steve out of the corner of his eye, bending down to unlace his boots and walk further into the apartment, a loose, satisfied sway to his stride.

“Follow me,” Steve says.

Bucky gets to his hands and knees and crawls after him.

*

Steve showers first. He leaves Bucky to wait in Steve’s bedroom, tucked between the open door and the dresser.

Bucky sits back on his heels and places each palm down on his thighs. Steve’s made him fully undress, and his skin’s chilled slightly in the cool air. Over the slight hum of the bathroom air vent and the rush of the water Bucky can hear Steve whistling in muffled snatches of sound. It soothes him inside. Steve is in a good mood, or at least, better than it could be.

He feels lighter already. The dark tangle in the pit of his stomach never seems to leave him, but there’s a certain assurance when Steve’s around. The sickening uncertainty which forms like a tangible creature in Bucky’s bouts of solitude seems to completely dissipate.

Steve emerges from the misty bathroom, towel at hand, rubbing at his damp hair. He tosses it over a chair and leaves the room, snapping his fingers once for Bucky to follow him. Bucky crawls after Steve to the kitchen, where he waits by the bar stools on the opposite side of the island.

Steve eats. He feeds Bucky in bits and pieces absentmindedly, extending his hand down with a cut of steak, or a slice of roasted potatoe held between his fingers, while flicking through his tablet with his other hand. Bucky’s careful, taking each proffered bite delicately with his teeth, licking at Steve’s fingers gratefully when he allows it.

Afterwards, Steve sends Bucky ahead to wait in the living room, and disappears. Bucky curls up on the sofa and listens to Steve move through the apartment. A tendril of uncertainty uncurls inside him as he waits. These checks are normal, he knows. Steve had done it as long as they’d been there, since way back when Bucky would have bad thoughts, say the really wrong, dangerous things, like why he couldn’t leave, or what Steve did when he was outside. Steve said there couldn’t be any secrets between them, because secrets could put Bucky in danger. He thinks about standing at the door to the staircase earlier, his hand on the knob.

Steve returns, and thumbs the television on from a control he pulls from his pants pocket. He tosses it on the sofa as a portion of the wall blinks on, eerie blue light filling the darkening room.

Bucky hides his anticipation well as Steve takes a seat on the sofa next to him, and pulls Bucky so his head can rest in Steve’s lap. He doesn’t think he’s meant to really watch with Steve, and sometimes Steve sets him curled inward so his face is turned towards Steve and he has to make do with just listening. The television doesn’t turn on unless Steve’s there to do it, so Bucky’s gotten used to treasuring the rare moments when he’s both awake enough to pay attention and Steve doesn’t seem to mind his presence.

Steve sets his hand on Bucky’s hair and pets him distractedly, absorbed as he flips channels. Bucky curls up tighter against Steve, soaking in his body heat. Steve hums in amusement at the movement, and his hand sweeps down to Bucky’s neck, then along his side. He rubs his hand there, thumb sweeping against Bucky’s skin, then sliding up so his fingers can find a nipple to play with. Bucky shivers slightly as Steve begins to worry it between his fingers, tweaking and rubbing at the little nub of flesh until it's tight and peaked.

He settles on a black and white feature. From his position Bucky’s view of the screen is sideways, but he can still get the gist of it, the back-and-forth rhythm in the characters’ speech instantly soothing. Steve stills for all of a moment. They watch in silence before he shifts in his seat, propping his legs up on the coffee table, his fingers moving to the other side of Bucky’s chest where they pick up their movement again.

Soon Bucky’s suppressing the urge to squirm. He tucks his knees up tighter, clutching at his thigh with the hand that isn’t pressed between his body and the cushion below him. Steve is persistent. Each tug and pinch at Bucky’s sensitive nipple starts to send an electric shock of pleasure shooting straight to Bucky’s groin. He opens his mouth to pant as soundlessly as he can against Steve’s thigh, scared and embarrassed by his body’s reaction, so easily responsive and turned on, even as he struggles to reign it in.

He must make a sound because Steve looks down.

“That got you going, sweetheart?” he asks, amused. Bucky shuts his eyes briefly, miserable. He couldn’t even make it a few minutes into the evening without distracting Steve again with his needy body.

“Give it some wet,” Steve says.

He takes the first two fingers of his hand and presses them to Bucky’s lips. Bucky opens obediently and sucks on them. Then Steve applies both back at Bucky’s now aching nipple, his fingers sliding with less friction, amping the sensation. He rubs his fingers back and forth across Bucky’s nipple, each pass sending a responding jolt rushing through him, growing stronger with every touch. Heat flushes Bucky’s face and crawls down his neck. He bites back the sounds building in his throat. He wants to hide the way his dick is swelling in interest, but he isn’t allowed to touch it unless Steve lets him, and the movement might draw Steve’s attention downwards anyways, might make him laugh at how eager and desperate Bucky is, never letting Steve have a moment of rest.

Steve’s distracted by the show again, fingers slowing against Bucky’s skin. The brief pause only seems to exacerbate things when he returns, a small tweak at Bucky’s worried nipple that has Bucky giving a small, surprised squeak.

“There you are,” Steve says, attention fully back on Bucky now. Bucky tries to hide his face in Steve’s lap. Steve only laughs and repeats the movement, harder, tugging at one nipple then the other.  “There’s my little whore. You getting bored by the movie, baby?”

“No, Steve, I’m okay,” Bucky says, trying to reassure him, desperate not to break the moment, but Steve’s attention is zeroing in, and he’s frowning down at Bucky in consideration. Bucky tries to stop the treacherous movement of his body, but the stimulation proves too much, and he squirms against Steve’s fingers. His nipples feel raw and swollen and aching more with every touch, responsive even to the cool draft of air as Steve moves between them.

“Uh uh, look at you leaking on my sofa again,” Steve says, giving Bucky’s sore nipple a mean little pinch.

Bucky gasps.

“I’m sorry, Steve, I didn’t mean it, I swear.”

“So you’re saying you don’t want this? You don’t want my hands on you, Buck?”

“No - I - I do.”

“What did I say about lying?” Steve asks, his voice going hard.

Bucky’s stomach drops.

“Sit up.”

Bucky scrambles to a sitting position, then slides quickly to the floor, kneeling at Steve’s feet. He’s messed it up, somehow, because he couldn’t just take a treat like a normal person, appreciate the time Steve was spending with him without demanding more, without letting his aching, slutty body ruin Steve’s night.

The television mutes with a touch of Steve’s hand to the control. The room goes silent, still bathed in its changing light.

“What just happened, Bucky?” Steve asks.

Bucky’s heart thumps in his chest. He’s doing the thing where he explains it now, makes Bucky work out his stupidity so he won’t do it again, even though Steve’s told him he feels like it’s a wasted effort, that Bucky won’t ever get it. But Steve tries anyways, because his patience is endless, and Bucky can see that now in the sad, disappointed look in Steve’s eyes.

“I lied to you,” Bucky says miserably.

“That’s right,” Steve says. His voice is calm and measured. “Now I’m not angry at you, because I know how difficult it is for you to be good. But you know I can’t let this go, right, Bucky? I have to teach you or else you’ll never learn. You got that?”

“Yes, Steve,” Bucky says. He feels utterly gutted, close to tears.

“Go get your cane,” Steve says. He stands up from the sofa, and looks down at Bucky, raising his eyebrows when Bucky stalls.

Bucky crawls the distance back to the bedroom feeling like the world has crumbled at his feet. It’s not the punishment that hurts, although it does in its own way, but the weight of Steve’s disappointment that feels most devastating.

He finds the cane in Steve’s closet, propped up against the wall. He grabs it between his teeth, maneuvering around the tight space carefully. It’s a thin, flexible, near-nothing of a tool that could probably be easily broken over his knee. With the right force it could deliver a red-hot stinging blow.

Steve’s waiting for Bucky when he returns, standing on the other side of the sofa. He extends his hand so Bucky can drop the cane onto his palm.

“Get up there,” Steve says, jerking his chin to the side. Bucky stands and faces the back of the sofa. Steve grips him by the back of his neck like an unruly puppy and pushes him down, bending Bucky over so his bare ass is exposed to the air. He nudges at Bucky’s ankles so he spreads his legs apart. His dick and balls hang between his legs. Bucky braces his hands against the cushions, biting back an anxious whine. He’s messed it all up and now he has to take it. He doesn’t deserve to cry about it.

“I’m gonna be real nice this time Bucky so we’re only going for a count of ten,” Steve says. He takes the cane and smooths it down like a promise against Bucky’s ass and down the back of his thighs.

“Yes, Steve,” Bucky says. His stomach tightens in sickening anticipation as Steve slides the cane down on Bucky’s skin again, never sure when Steve will start. Steve makes a soft, contemplative sound.

Bucky only has the whistle of the cane through the air as a brief warning before it strikes down, a sudden, white-hot flare on the meat of his ass. He bites back a yelp, fingers digging into the cushions below.

“One,” he gasps out.

“Good,” Steve says in acknowledgement. He slides the cane across Bucky’s ass again, tapping it in deliberation. The line where it first landed throbs hot and sensitive.

The second whack lands on the back of Bucky’s thighs. He bites back a groan.

“Two,” he says quickly, voice going weak.

The next few strikes rain down steadily, each in a new place, pelting down and burning. Bucky’s face goes hot as he gasps and breathes. His groin grows inexplicably, damnably, heavy.

He moans on the eighth strike. His dick gives a treacherous twitch, and dribbles against his thigh.

“Oh baby, I can’t stop you can I?”

“I’m sorry, Stevie,” Bucky says. He keens as the cane falls down again, counting out the stroke, shivering as Steve taps the cane against his hot, tender skin for a long while before smacking it down for the last strike.

“Ten!” Bucky gasps out, and the cane rattles to the floor as Steve approaches. He’s breathing hard. He brings his hand to Bucky’s ass and squeezes one cheek appreciatively. Bucky cries out at the feeling.  

“What a picture you make, baby” Steve breathes, desire heavy in this voice. He smooths his palm down gently on Bucky’s hot skin as Bucky shivers underneath. His eyes are wet, tears collecting in the corners, his nose stuffed up so it’s hard to breathe. His head feels heavy with blood.

Steve keeps smoothing down Bucky’s sore backside, in slow, admiring touches until he’s satisfied.

“That wasn’t so bad was it?” Steve asks.

“No, sir.”

“What do you say now?”

“Thank you, sir.”

“For what?” Steve grips Bucky’s other cheek in his hand gently, rubbing his thumb at the raw skin, then lets go.

“Thank you for punishing me.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. You know I do it just for you, don’t you?”

“Yes, Stevie.”

“Come here, get up,” Steve says. Bucky stands up and turns around slowly, eyes downcast to his feet. He sniffs around his dripping nose, choking back tears at Steve’s gentle tone, desperate to be forgiven.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s alright,” Steve says, taking Bucky into his arms, and Bucky’s body wracks through with a sob. He stuffs his face against Steve’s shoulder and scrunches his eyes closed. They didn’t make it through the night without Bucky ruining it but it’s set to right now, Steve’s set him back on track and extraordinarly forgiven him, again.

“Shh, baby, it’s fine,” Steve says, kissing at Bucky’s face. “Let’s get you to bed.”

*

Steve’s gentle with Bucky, afterwards. He smoothes a soothing balm on Bucky’s sore ass and thighs even though Bucky heals quick enough and never bruises, but that’s how nice Steve is.

Bucky preps himself while Steve washes his hands and undresses. He’s waiting on Steve’s bed, curled up on his back with his hands holding his ankles in the air. The waning throb at his backside still has his dick half hard against his stomach, balls heavy and swollen from being denied release for days while Steve was gone.

“There’s my sweet boy,” Steve says softly, eyes intent on Bucky as he crawls across the bed.

Bucky goes weak inside at Steve’s approaching form, naked and exposed, fingers tightening around his ankles. Steve slicks his hard length and presses his fingers to Bucky’s already wet hole. It clenches and pulses under the flat of Steve’s fingers like a hungry, eager thing. Bucky’s cheeks go hot. He bites at his lips and watches Steve play with him, Steve’s mouth parting as he rubs at Bucky’s hole slowly. Sensation builds and twists Bucky’s insides. His cock jerks and swells, blurting out a new strand of wet. Steve slips his thumb inside.

“Look at this sweet cunt,” Steve says. He pulls at the rim with his thumb and watches the musculature clench around him. Bucky breathes hard. His hard dick rises and falls, responding to the stimulation at his hole, its dripping head tapping against the flat of his navel.

“Thank you, Steve,” Bucky whispers. His stomach jumps as Steve turns his attention to Bucky’s cock, stroking it to fullness. Steve hums in return absently.

“Can I fuck this pussy, sweetheart?” Steve asks.

“Yes, sir, please.”

“What a sweet thing,” Steve says, and he gets to his knees, lining himself up to Bucky’s hole and slowly pushing in. He leans over Bucky, steadying one hand at the back of Bucky's thigh so his knees nearly touch his chest. Steve kisses at his mouth. Bucky whines and opens his mouth eagerly for the plunge of Steve's tongue, breathing hard as Steve bottoms out in him, his hole stretching deliciously to accommodate Steve's thickness, clenching around him in pulses. Bucky moans as Steve’s cock presses against that spot that aches inside, like an itch he can never scratch.

“That’s it,” Steve breathes, pumping his hips. “Let it out.”

Bucky’s breathing ratchets up as Steve begins to move faster, hard pumps that drive right into Bucky’s soft, yielding insides. His cock sways, stiff and helpless in the air, heavy balls bouncing with each of Steve’s thrusts. He feels full and hot and heavy and quickly on the cusp of coming.

“Steve, Steve,” Bucky says weakly, face scrunching up, head tilting forward as his orgasm hits, wracking through his body. His cock pulses and jerks as Steve continues driving in, pushing it all out relentlessly, come spurting from the tip and landing every which way.

Bucky’s making a mess of his stomach and the sheets underneath but he’s heedless, barely breathing as he shudders and keens. He manages to keep his hands gripped at his ankles throughout, and Steve must approve when he’s finally done because he presses kisses all over Bucky’s face and mouth, praising him in endless, hushed whispers.

*

In the morning Bucky wakes to the sound of Steve humming in the kitchen. He’s healed from the night before, not a stray bruise or spot of soreness left behind. They eat together in the living room as Steve catches up with his work, gaze riveted to his tablet screen, and Bucky watches him quietly throughout.

Then Steve looks up and smiles at him and Bucky’s filled with an enormous, overwhelming feeling, inflating like a balloon inside his chest.

They’re dozing in bed together towards noon when Steve stretches and tugs at Bucky’s arm.

“Let’s get some sun,” he says.

Up top, the roof shimmers underneath the blinding sun, asphalt hot beneath their feet despite the cold breeze that blows through. Bucky blinks in the light. He feels small suddenly, like a stray wind might blow him away, the cloudless sky ominous and terrifying above him. So far up, the rush of traffic below only registers as a muted hum.

He turns towards Steve.

“Can we go back inside?”


End file.
